Godparents
by Alohaemora
Summary: Between the twelve Weasley-Potter children, it couldn't have been easy to pick all of those godparents.


The first time, it was easy.

They chose their closest friends, their favorite cousins, and the siblings they'd been just _that_ much closer to, growing up. There were a few mild surprises, a few minor disagreements, but, for the most part, the decisions that were made were fairly straightforward.

_31 July 1998_

It was nearly midnight. The Burrow was dark and silent against the outline of the moon in the darkening sky.

"Merlin's beard, Harry!" Ron's scandalized whisper echoed down the Burrow's otherwise empty front yard. "You really didn't hold back, did you?"

Harry grinned at his friend. Then, he plunked himself down in front of the garden shed, gesturing for Ron to join him. A six-bottle crate of Ogden's finest was propped open on the grass by his feet.

"It's my eighteenth," Harry reasoned, picking up a bottle and flicking the cap off with his thumb. It fizzled for a moment, before subsiding. "I think we deserve a treat."

Ron snorted, but did not object. Sitting cross-legged on the overgrown lawn opposite his best friend, Ron too popped open a bottle of Firewhiskey and raised it.

"To being alive," he said quietly.

Harry's smile faded slightly, but he nodded, following suit. "To being alive."

He took an enormous gulp of the beverage, but ended up inhaling half of it up his nose. Coughing and spluttering, Harry keeled forward onto the grass.

When he looked up, Ron was shaking with laughter. "You defeat the darkest wizard of all time, no problem," Ron said in amusement. "But when it comes to drinking a bottle of Ogden's…"

"Stuff it," Harry said hoarsely. Straightening, he took another, more careful sip of Firewhiskey, and Ron grinned.

"Happy birthday to Harry Potter," Ron said warmly, thumping his friend on the back. "Savior of the Wizarding World, the Boy Who Lived, and, _most_ importantly, godfather to my first child."

"Thanks, mate," Harry beamed at him. Then, innocently, he added, "And I'm sure Ginny would agree to name you godfather to _our_ first child, too."

This time, Ron choked on his Firewhiskey, and Harry fell over, laughing.

_3 May 2000_

"Thank you so much for 'elping out zis past two months, Charlie," Fleur said warmly, leaning up and kissing his cheek. "I don't know what Bill and I would 'ave done without you and Gabrielle. You two weel make wonderful godparents."

"Anytime, Fleur," Charlie grinned. "Sorry I have to leave so soon, but…well, the dragons aren't going to train themselves, are they?"

Fleur laughed, and Bill—who was standing next to her, holding a sleeping, one-day-old Victoire in his arms—rolled his eyes good-humoredly.

"We understand," said Fleur. "'Ave a safe journey."

"I will," Charlie promised, hitching his bag up his shoulder. After leaning down to kiss Victoire's tiny forehead, he straightened, smiling from Fleur to Bill. "I'll see you all at Christmas."

He was just about to leave, his hand on the front door, when, quite suddenly, Bill said, "Hang on a second, I'll walk you out."

Charlie turned, eyebrows raised. "You don't have—" But Bill had already placed Victoire safely in her mother's arms and joined Charlie at the front door.

Shrugging, Charlie swung open the door and walked into the cool freshness of an early-May morning, Bill at his heels.

For a moment, both were silent, as they made their way towards the cottage's front gate.

But, then— "It's too bad you can't stay longer," Bill said quietly.

Charlie's pace slowed slightly, but he did not stop. "I wish I could," he said simply. "But like I said—"

"Yes, I know the dragons won't train themselves, Charlie," Bill interrupted, exhaling impatiently; and, finally, Charlie turned around, crossing his arms. "But that doesn't mean you have to!"

Charlie glared at his elder brother. "Well, what do you propose I do, then?" he demanded. "It's my job, Bill! I'm not you, all right? I'm not ready to abandon everything I've been working on for the past ten years of my life and move back to England like a good, little boy!"

Bill opened his mouth to retaliate, but closed it again, a moment later. After a tense moment, during which the two brothers gazed at each other, expressions defiant, the pair turned around and continued the rest of walk to the garden gate in steely silence.

Finally, at the gate, Charlie turned around, sighing. "Bill, I—"

"No—Charlie, you're right," Bill said gently. "I can't just expect you to move back here." He paused, biting his lip. "It's just…Gabrielle lives in France, you live in Romania—"

"Bill," Charlie interjected firmly, and the elder boy fell silent. "Look, I could live in Antarctica and it wouldn't make me _any_ less of a godfather to Victoire—no, listen!" he said sharply, for Bill had started to protest. With a sigh, Bill quieted again, gazing expectantly at his younger brother.

With a deep breath, Charlie continued, "Bill, I'm going to be there for her, all right? I'm going to help her with everything I can, and—Romania, or not, I'm going to be so present that…she'll get sick of me!"

And, at long last, Bill grinned. "Unlikely," he conceded. "You're going to be the cool dragon-taming uncle from the mysterious land of Romania, remember?"

Charlie burst out laughing. "Now you're seeing it!" he exclaimed, clapping his brother's shoulder. "My bedtime stories are going to put yours to shame, Billy."

_13 January 2005_

"George, I'm heading home for the night," Lee announced, stifling a yawn behind is hand. "I don't want Alicia to have to get Nellie to sleep all by herself…" he trailed off, side-stepping a half-empty crate of Puking Pastilles as he approached the front door of the joke shop. Placing a hand around the doorknob, he glanced over his shoulder, frowning. "George? Did you hear me?"

Silence.

Frown melting into a grimace of uncertainty, Lee turned completely around. "George?" he called again. "Did you go upstairs already?"

More silence.

Shrugging, Lee pushed open the front door. He had one leg out the door when the sound came—a loud CRASH from the shop's basement. Stiffening, Lee ducked back into the building, eyebrows knitting.

CRASH.

Quickly, Lee jogged to the basement staircase, drawing his wand, and taking the steps two and a time. Swinging around the corner, chest heaving, he saw George kneeling on the floor of the basement, hunched over two upset cardboard boxes of Canary Creams, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

"George!" Lee's face drained of color as he bounded into the room and dropped to the floor beside his friend. "George, listen!" With trembling fingers, he reached out and touched George's arm—but George shrugged it off roughly.

"Don't touch—!"

"George," Lee interrupted, his tone steelier. "George, listen to me." And George froze, inhaling sharply. "It's the thirteenth of January," Lee said calmly, placing his hand on George's arm once again; this time, the latter didn't object. "We're sitting together in the basement of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where you've just knocked over two boxes of perfectly good Canary Creams." Lee paused. "Now, are you going tell me what happened?"

There was a long, expectant silence, during which neither boy moved a muscle.

Finally, several minutes later, with a small cough, George straightened, eyes red and his posture still slightly unsteady. Lee stared at him. With a shaking finger, George reached out and pointed at the label on one of the Canary Creams boxes.

Lee leaned forward, frowning. It was a very old order, nearly eight years old, in fact. And right there, under the date, was a signature of verification—faded and weathered from years of dust and inactivity, but still very much apparent: _Fred Weasley_.

Lee looked up, eyes softening. But George avoided his gaze, leaning against the nearby wall and staring down at his hands.

"George," Lee began quietly.

"How am I going to do it, Lee?" George asked hoarsely. "How can I possibly be a—a dad if I...if I _crack up_ every time it hits me?"

"George," Lee began again.

"And we're planning on naming him after him, too!" George croaked, looking suddenly terrified. "Lee, what if I can't even look at him—?"

"Merlin's beard, you're being ridiculous," Lee interjected firmly. George immediately tried to argue, but Lee quelled him with a sharp look. "Listen, George, can I tell you something?"

George looked extremely reluctant, but— "Fine," he sighed.

"None of us," Lee said, gazing intently at George. "And I mean it when I say none of us have a _clue_ what we're doing before we actually become fathers. Hell, it's been over a month for me and I still don't know what I'm doing!"

George stared at him.

"You're going to be fine," Lee said decisively. "Just watch. Your little Freddie is going grow up and terrorize Hogwarts, like he was meant to."

George managed a slightly strangled laugh, shaking his head. "Angelina wanted to wait until after he was born to tell you this," he said, eyes sparkling. "But…well, we've actually decided to name our son Fred _Lee_ Weasley."

Lee blinked.

"After his godfather," George continued, now smiling broadly.

Lee's eyes widened. "George, that's—" he broke off, beaming. "It's an honor—thank you."

George grinned. "Now we've actually done it, haven't we? You as his godfather, me as his father…F-Fred as his name."

Lee laughed. "His fate is sealed, mate."

_31 December 2005_

Percy, George, Ron, and Harry were spending New Year's Eve in the very heavily crowded Leaky Cauldron. There were fifteen minutes until midnight, and the four of them were already on their seventh round of Firewhiskey.

Bill had opted out of the occasion; he and Fleur had taken Victoire and Dominique to France for the holidays. Meanwhile, Charlie had returned to Romania almost immediately after Christmas for a surprise assignment he'd received involving two terrifyingly violent Peruvian Vipertooths that had just recently arrived from South America. As a result, he hadn't been able to join the New Year's Eve celebration with his brothers and brother-in-law, either.

It had taken a great deal of convincing on Percy's, Ron's, and Harry's parts for their very, very pregnant wives to set them loose for the evening. But the promise of a quiet New Year's celebration at the Burrow with Molly, Arthur, Angelina, and little James and Fred had eventually enticed them enough to agree.

And so, the evening found Ron, George, Harry, and Percy all slumped across a private booth in a slightly more secluded corner of the pub, laughing maniacally at a joke George had just told them about what happened when Draco Malfoy, a Grindylow, and a bottle of Amortentia walked into a bar together.

"George, can you please tell that one at my next birthday?" Ron asked, wiping tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes. "Dad would lose it!"

George grinned wickedly. "Now don't you worry, Ronnie-kins, I've already got a joke all picked out for your birthday," he said, a wicked glint in his eyes. Then, he pretended to scratch his chin toughtfully. "Actually, it's pretty much the same as the other one—except instead of the Grindylow, Draco Malfoy falls hopelessly in love with a tall, gangling, freckled ginger prat named Ronal—" He stopped short, ducking as a maroon-eared Ron threw a Firewhiskey cork at him. Percy and Harry roared with laughter.

"Hey!" called a familiar voice suddenly, and all four boys turned to see Neville Longbottom—pink-faced and glowing with excitement—approach them. "Can I get you all something more to drink?"

"We're good, Neville," George said, smiling. "Can't go home too drunk, or our wives might disown us, y'know."

Neville chuckled. "All right," he said. "Just holler if you need anything. Countdown starts in ten."

"Thanks, Nev," Ron grinned. "Say hello to Hannah and Alice for us!"

"And good luck with the second pregnancy, mate!" Harry chimed in, punching Neville's shoulder affectionately.

"You, too, Harry!" Neville waved happily as he sped off.

"Hey, Perce," Ron said suddenly, as though something had just occurred to him. The other three turned to him. "Have you and Audrey decided on godparents yet?"

Percy froze. "We—" he hesitated, glancing from one expectant face to the next. "Yeah...yeah, we have."

There was a pregnant pause.

Then— "Oh," George said mildly. "Well, who?"

"Er—" Percy bit his lip, averting his gaze. "It's..." He sighed. "Zacharias Smith."

Several things seemed to happen at once. Ron spat out a mouthful of Firewhiskey, colliding violently with George's shoulder. This, in turn, caused George to swallow too much of _his_ drink; he ended up choking so severely that Harry had to whack him repeatedly on the back.

It was several moments before any of the boys found themselves able to speak again.

Finally, it was Harry who said, tone disbelieving, "Percy, you must be joking."

Percy blushed a vivid red, bristling. "Harry, it wasn't my idea—"

"Was it Audrey's?" Ron blurted out, looking positively beside himself. "Look, Perce, I know they're cousins, but you've got to understand—!"

"That boy was a prick to us in school, mate," George supplied, shaking his head.

Percy sighed. "I know, but—"

"You weren't there at those Quidditch matches when he commentated," Ron interrupted furiously. "If you'd heard the things he said about our family, Perce, you wouldn't—"

"Ron, for the last time, it wasn't my idea!" Percy bellowed, standing up suddenly and glaring fiercely down at his brothers and Harry. They all quieted, almost instantaneously. Then, taking a deep, calming breath, he continued, "Look, I wasn't on board with this idea either—I'm still not," he added, eyeing Ron sharply. The latter's eyes had widened at use of past tense.

With a sigh, Percy sat back down at the booth, running a hand over his short hair. "But I agreed to it," he said simply. "Because Audrey loves him, and because he loves Audrey...and because I know that even if he is one of the biggest pricks in the entire Wizarding World, that I'd be leaving my daughter in the care of a bloke that I know will treat her right."

There was a long silence, during which Ron, Harry, and George gazed at Percy, evidently stunned.

Then, suddenly, Ron's eyes widened. "Wait—_daughter_?" he yelped, mouth falling open. "It's a girl!"

Percy grinned sheepishly at his brother. "Don't tell Audrey I told you—she'll murder me. It was supposed to be a surp—"

"Percy!" George looked, if possible, more shocked than Ron. "You sneaky, little wart! I can't believe you never told us—blimey, a girl—congratulations!"

Shouts of glee and surprise emanated from the table of four, as Harry, Ron, and George leaped to their feet and pulled Percy into a tight hug that he was absolutely unable to escape.

_"10...9...8...7...6..."_

George was now loudly telling a joke about what happened when Percy Weasley, Zacharias Smith, and a bottle of Amortentia walked into a bar.

_"5...4...3...2...1..."_

Percy clung helplessly to his brothers and Harry, as they formed a senseless mass of tangled limbs and hysterical laughter.

"_Happy new year_!" Neville's voice boomed through the extremely noisy pub.

"Happy new year!" echoed Harry, Percy, George, and Ron, as they raised their Firewhiskey bottles together in a kind of drunken salute, still laughing uncontrollably.

* * *

HEHEHEHHE OKAY DON'T GET MAD AT ME! I know I still have "A Year in the Life" going on right now, so, yes, what in Merlin's name am I doing starting a new one, right? But this one is only three chapters long and I already have everything planned out, so I'm on top of it, I swear!

Anyway, basically this is going to be three chapters long (one for all of the first children, one for the second children, and one for the third children) and each chapter is going to be about choosing/talking to/revealing the godparents for the third generation Weasley-Potter children. Sounds like fun? I thought so :D

Also, I'm trying something new: I'm going to write this story entirely in third-person objective. So basically, you'll know what the entire scene looks like, at all times. But you won't know the thoughts of any one character at any time! I think it adds to the suspense and impactfulness of it all, this way.

Hope you all liked this first bit! I'll try and get the second one up later this week, along with an update for AYITL, AND a new one-shot (because it's been AGES since I last posted one).

Love you all madly!

Yours sincerely,  
Alohaemora


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